


Suck

by pisum_sativum



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Caring, Coping, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Food Issues, Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sibling Incest, Starvation, Thumb-sucking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, hunger, nipple sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23172007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pisum_sativum/pseuds/pisum_sativum
Summary: Sam didn't even feel hunger anymore when he took Dean's finger limp from sleep and sucked.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 77





	Suck

Sam was crying and Dean was sure it was because he was hungry.

They ran out of Sam's formula this morning and John promised they would get it soon.

But Sammy didn't understand soon, and he was really hungry. He didn't know how to say it so he was wailing loudly like a screeching banshee. Dean understood that and John didn't.

Tendons on the side of John's head were really tight, teeth grinded together to rein in a growl.

John couldn't bear with Sammy's crying the way Mary had. He could barely change Sammy's diaper.

Dean was much better. It was not hard, but John didn't listen, or he couldn't understand what Sammy was trying to say.

"Daddy's driving. 'S okay. You'll eat soon," Dean said, and rubbed soothingly on Sam's side. Sam didn't look too happy about that. He sucked a deep breath through his mouth ready to wail another time.

"I'll make you an extra ounce." he whispered conspiratorially into Sam's ear. "But you mustn't tell dad."

Sam's eyes widened a little at that, like he understood. He probably did. Sammy was smart. But he cried anyway. Sammy was a bitch too, Dean and John agreed on that. At least it wasn't too loud.

"I know you're hungry. I'm too," Dean admitted softly later. John didn't hear him. Dean had woken up late and there wasn't time for his breakfast. He'd accepted his own hunger easily. It was his own fault that he hadn't woken on time because he was a big boy. People were dying. His stomach growling and discomfort were insignificant.

For Sammy though, it was different. He was little. He didn't understand that they had to get to New Mexico as fast as possible because there was a ghost leading a dozen virgins to death every Ides of March. And that was within three days.

"Dean, make him stop," John was kneading at the bridge of his nose and said it at him looking at him through the rearview mirror.

Dean wished they still had had a pacifier but they lost it a month ago and hadn't bought the new one yet. Then he had an idea. "Here, Sammy. Suck." he thrusted his thumb just pass Sam's rosy lips.

Sammy took it easily, taking his thumb deeper, and he looked at Dean eyes strikingly clear and full of utter trust.

Dean melted like gooey mozzarella on pizza.

Sam licked the pad of Dean's thumb in sync with the sucking. Dean could feel Sam calming down. His own arms were burning from holding his baby brother close but Dean kept him there, muscles aching and trembling to keep Sammy calm.

*

It was effective. Sam didn't use the newly bought pacifier preferring Dean's thumb. Dean sort of liked it too, not the aching arms though, but the expression in Sams eyes as he looked up to Dean. He felt important.

John parked the Impala, slamming the door too hard and went to look under the hood. There was something wrong with her. She refused to run anymore.

Dean helped out with John, holding and handing whatever John told him to and keeping a close eye on Sam who stayed in the car.

In the end, the Impala ran again and Sam was crying. Dean listened and realized it was the cry for  _ Dean _ , demanding comfort.

Sam didn't stop when he was cradled in Dean's arms. Little bitch. He wanted to suck Dean's thumb.

Dean couldn't give it to Sam because it was greasy with motor oil and stuff. It would make Sammy sick.

Dean rummaged through their things and fished out the pacifier but Sam spit it out.

Out of options, he plucked out top couples of buttons of his plaid, and bared his chest.

He had seen his mom did this, knew Sam would be quiet in an instant. Dean didn't have soft flesh there like his mother had had. His chest was hard and bony, ribs almost visible. His nipples faded shade of pink, barely there.

Sammy tried to latch on, but there was nothing to hold onto. Sam tried again, small teeth digging the soft pale skin for grip.

For Dean, it hurt bad, tear leaked from the corner of his eyes. It felt like someone tried to chew through his chest.

Well, Sammy did.

And in doing so Sam was happy and quiet, Dean couldn't bring himself to stop his brother.

Sam eventually fell asleep, lips sliding off from Dean's chest. Dean adjusted the soft shirt to cover his shoulder and buttoned up. His chest felt scraped raw and tender.

And fuck, Sam loved it even more than Dean's thumb. Sam latched on his nipple again that night. The wide collar of John's old shirt Dean slept in was yanked low in Sam's chubby fist.

He moved Sam from the bruised side to other one. Sam made a contented baby noise and bit down again, one clumsy fist finding a grip on the free nipple and yanked.

Dean groaned. "Gimme a break." but he didn't push Sam away.

*

"'M hungry, Dean," Sam said. It was a matter of fact, not a complaint.

"Only today, Sammy." Dean promised. "Dad'll be back tomorrow."

Sam nodded.

It wasn't like Sam didn't know that the pantry and the fridge were empty. Sam had eaten the last of their supply, a mushroom canned soup Dean diluted with hot water, the day before.

Dean had done his best, stretching money John left as long as he could, getting five-finger discount until he didn't trust the squint of the general store cashier anymore. In such a small town, resources were limited, he couldn't try to  _ make money _ the way he did in bigger cities without risking an uglily high chance of getting caught. Hunger hurt less than separation.

They were both on a divan, Sam slumped against Dean's shoulder. It was Tuesday, but they skipped school to avoid being seen without lunch. The TV was blaring too loudly. Neither of them bothered to turn the volume down. It was a pretty good distraction. Besides, it wouldn't be too long before the electricity got cut.

Dean had buried a heapful of unpaid bills they couldn't pay for in the drawer. No need to worry Sam with something that couldn't be helped.

Sam took Dean's hand when Dean didn't respond. Dean was pretty out of it. He hadn't been eating enough lately, cutting his part so that it lasted longer for Sam.

Sam put Dean's thumb in his mouth. Dean twinged at his brother's hunger with each suck, white sharp teeth grazing lightly at the base of his nail. He looked painfully young like this, like when he was still a baby.

"Sammy," Dean breathed out.

Sam looked up, hazel eyes blinking at his name, still full of trust even when Dean failed to feed him.

Dean pulled Sam closer so they fitted more snugly. Sam scooted to settle practically on his lap, clingy and pliable. Dean smoothed hI hand on Sam's forehead, easing him to rest the side of it on Dean's chest and wrapped a blanket around their bodies tight when he noticed Sam's freezing feet on his thigh.

Radiators didn't work anymore, and it was so cold he thought he was going to freeze his ass off every time he sat on the toilet.

Sam didn't complain though, Dean noted proudly, he had toughened it up like Dean had told him to. Dean supposed he had expected his brother to bitch about it.

Dean squeezed Sam's feet, rubbing against them to warm them up. 

Sam eventually slipped down to rest on Dean's lap, tracing invisible patterns on Dean's hollow stomach, his mouth never once came off Dean's thumb. Sam grew bored of sucking after a while and instead nipped lightly on pruned fingerprint and softened nail.

Sam chewed until the white of Dean's nail was no more. He showed it to Dean with a huge grin of success and went on to the index finger.

Dean noted that if things went on like this, he was never needing a nail clipper again. But he had no intention of that.

*

They waited for John, malaise making them cranky to each other. They watched the clock as it ran to midnight. The door was still closed. Sam thought he had been stupid to wait for John who didn't fail to disappoint them again and again.

They turned to each other, eyes reflecting in each other's eyes until they were the Same.

"Can I?" Sam whispered to ask.

"Whatever you want." Dean said. Sam sort of wanted to know what Dean meant by whatever, if he was going to push Sam away. He kneeled in front of his big brother, slow enough that Dean would have plenty of time to pull away.

Their eyes were on each other when Sam lowered Dean's thick pants and worn boxer. Sam didn't know what the hell he was doing but he took the tip of Dean's cock in his mouth. He closed his eyes and sucked like he did with Dean's thumb. It was much bigger than Sam used to. Dean jerked away hard when he nipped at the head.

Sam watched Dean's face, repeating what he did to make Dean's face blown to ecstasy. He lapped the slit with his tongue again and again, feeling the warm twitch of Dean getting hard. He could taste salt and musk, the  _ Dean _ smell like when he didn't shower.

Dean took Sam's hand, sucking deep at Sam's thumb until his full lips was around the base, like he was hungry for Sam like Sam was for Dean. Dean rubbed the back of Sam's neck, messaging the deep tension. It made Sam felt so good.

"Watch out, Sammy " Sam got a warning the moment before Dean came on his hoodie. It was warm and salty and unpleasant. He licked his come-smeared finger again, and decided he liked it.

"You're crazy," Dean whispered in awe when Sam licked at his softening cock like a lolly.

"You like it," Sam said and Dean didn't protest.

"I'm shoplifting tomorrow," Sam added.

*

There was a food Sam hated even more than Dean's carnivore diet. It was oil pasta.

The was something Dean picked up from Food Network, adapted from a basic Italian dish of pasta topped with olive oil and parmesan cheese.

But Dean never bought olive oil. It was too expensive. He used normal cooking oil instead. They could rarely afford parmesan cheese so it was usually pasta and oil or with sliced cheese if there was any in fridge.

The result was tasteless slimy pasta that left Sam's mouth coated in oil for hours after. Sam hated it more because it was the Same food that dwindled for days before there was nothing left to eat.

Pasta on their plate was rarely more than a forkful. It didn't taste too bad when they was famished.

"How's it?" Sam asked.

Dean grimaced after he swallowed slowly. Sam didn't know if it was because of the taste or the fact that he had managed to get strangled and gutted so deep with a cursed blade that they were lucky he didn't lose any organ.

"Real shit," Dean croaked out.

Sam made a wounded face. He hadn't really expect it to be good, but he had tried to time the boiling for al dente.

that way just because it reminded Dean of the occasion they got to eat it.

Dean was off hospital for less than a week and Sam was wary to leave him alone, uncomfortably aware of how close Dean had been to death as he saw life bleeding off his brother. Their pantry was down to pasta and few canned food.

"You cooked it better than me," Sam admitted at his first bite.

Dean's eyes gleamed darkly. "No. every time I made it, I was terrified. I swore to myself that it's the last time we're eating it. You always had a disappointed face when you saw it but you ate it in five seconds flat because there's nothing else. Do we have enough, Sam?"

"There is, Dean. Don't worry, alright?"

"What's left?"

"Pasta, tuna, sixty bucks. I'll hustle this Saturday if you're better and get grocery," Sam replied.

"'Kay," Dean nodded. "Get me M&M."

Sam didn't leave until Monday. Stitches on Dean's stomach too puffy and the edges still blackened like it was still burnt for all Dean complained of Sam being a mother hen. "It's a cursed blade, Dean. What if it's to, I dunno, cut the wound again after a week, and you bleed to dead when i'm away."

"Such a drama queen," Dean complained.

There was nothing left in the pantry. Sam had boiled the last of the pasta the day before, sure that he would go out today.

"I'm not cooking today," Sam announced, dropping a Ritz he had found under the sink on Dean's lap.

"Why not?" Dean asked, crumbs falling all over his thighs when he tore the wrapper.

"Don't feel like it." Sam said, trying to be nonchalant.

"Lair." Dean pushed the open Ritz in Sam's hand. "Not hungry. Feel like I gonna puke."

Sam almost believed him. "Lair. Just eat your fucking food."

"Just eat your own fucking ass," Dean retorted thrusting crackers on coffee table. "or eat the fucking cracker."

"You're an ass," Sam spoke through mouthful of Dean's fingers, making loud sucking noise and bit hard when Dean yanked them away.

"The fuck, Sam?" Dean tried to walk away but Sam trapped him to the sofa.

"Eat up."

"No." Dean twisted his head sideway and bit his mouth shut when Sam tried to force cracker in his mouth.

"You're wasting food." Sam accused when half a cracker fell on the floor as Dean fought.

"Jac--"

Sam shoved the cracker half in his hand inside Dean's mouth when Dean cursed. His expression was thunderous when he chewed, like he was about to spew a long colorful cuss words. But he sealed his mouth shut. His face was eloquent enough to express what he wanted to say.

Sam managed to shove a few more pieces inside Dean's mouth before he was afraid Dean would hurt himself from twisting so much.

Dean finally conceded by sharing it half and half with Sam.

"Half of what's left," Sam bartered.

Dean gave him a middle finger, and they ate. Sam kept a mindful eye. As far as Sam knew, Dean didn't manage to sneak him any. But Sam wasn't sure, Dean could be a sneaky bastard when he wanted to be.

Sam could tell Dean was exhausted by the time they finished, he was toying with the idea of sneaking out when Dean dozed off on the sofa.

But he felt something sinister in the air and decided to do it later. Hunger wasn't that much of a problem, much easier to bear than what they had been inflicted over the years.

It was barely anything, really, when he didn't have to worry about the next meal, or whether or not John was coming back. Sam didn't even feel hunger anymore when he took Dean's finger limp from sleep and sucked.


End file.
